Nanny
by lolcat202
Summary: A quick series based on OQ Week prompts from Tumblr. The first prompt: Robin is Regina's nanny.


Chapter 1

Chapter Text

Henry and Roland are sitting at the kitchen table, side by side, when Regina strolls in and slams her briefcase on the table. "Easy, Mom!" Henry says as he moves his math book out of the line of fire.

"Sorry, sweetie," she replies, and kisses him on the forehead. "I just had a bad day."

"You want me to draw you a picture?" Roland asks as he looks up from his coloring book. She smiles, tells him she would love that, and leans down to kiss him on the top of his head. She stands up and reaches her arms over her head, stretching her back side-to-side, her vertebrae cracking in response.

"That doesn't sound good," Robin says mildly from the island where he's slicing garlic bread. "Everything all right?"

Regina leans her elbows on the opposite side of the island. "Sidney again."

"Ah," Robin says. "Say no more," and he hands her the heel of the loaf of bread. She smiles at him – the ends of the loaf are the crunchiest and best by far. "What's for dinner?" she asks before sinking her teeth into the still-steaming slice of bread.

"Lasagna," he answers, and as her eyebrows raise, he waves a hand at her. "And yes, your majesty, I used your recipe." She's appeased by his answer and pulls out one of the counter stools on the island, still munching happily on her garlic bread appetizer. He reaches over to swipe the crumbs she's dropping all over the counter into a tidy pile. "I just cleaned in here, you know," he tells her.

"And you did a superb job," she smirks. She takes another bite of the garlic bread, not bothering to hide a smile at his exasperated sigh as he swipes at the counter again.

"So, Sidney," he says as he drapes a napkin on the counter in front of her. "Credit or blame?" It's a running joke between the two of them – when Regina comes home angry, it's usually because Sidney has either taken all the credit for the work her team has done, or blamed her for one of his many spectacular screw-ups. Robin can't understand how the man hasn't been fired yet, or how Regina hasn't punched him square in the nose, but he's hardly familiar with corporate politics. He is familiar with Regina, though, having lived with and worked for her for four years now, and knows that she's more than capable of holding her own against Sidney.

"Blame," she says with a sigh. "We're in the middle of an audit, and there were some, shall we say, discrepancies. He tried to push them off on my account managers. Unfortunately for him," she says with a smug smile, "Regina Mills always keeps a paper trail."

"Then why the foul mood?" he asks. Getting the best of Sidney generally sends Regina skipping through the front door, not slamming her briefcase down on the table.

"Because no matter whose fault it is, we still have to fix it. And I have enough to do these days without bailing him out again." He tells her to let Sidney handle his own cock-ups, that it's not her responsibility, but it falls on deaf ears. Regina can't sit idly by when something is amiss. She likes to take charge, likes to fix things for herself, likes to know that at the end of the day, everything is in order. Knowing this about her, it's still a mystery to him that her wet towels never seem to make it off the bathroom floor in the morning.

"How about another slice of bread?" she asks with a smile, and because she's had a rough day, he hands over another crusty slice.

"Don't go spoiling your appetite," he says, "or the hour I slaved away to make lasagna will be wasted."

"You know Henry will eat half the pan if you let him," she shrugs, "even if Roland won't touch it."

"Oh, Roland will eat it, all right," Robin replies grimly. "I've had enough of being his short-order cook. I told him today, he eats what the family eats." She stiffens a little bit at the word family, but it's too late for him to take it back.

He's not sure he would if he could, though. Technically, he's Regina's nanny, yes, but after four years of living in the same house, it's impossible not to feel as if they're an odd sort of family. They'd met through Marian, Robin's wife, who had been one of Regina's many account managers. The financial management company where they worked paid remarkably well, so well that Marian and Robin agreed that when Roland was born, he would be the one to stay home. A car accident on a snowy night had destroyed all their plans, leaving Roland motherless and Robin devastated. A month after Marian's death, Regina had shown up on his doorstep with a pizza and a bottle of whiskey, and the two of them had stayed up all night talking about broken dreams. He told her he wasn't sure what to do with himself and Roland, that he thought about taking the boy back to England to be closer to his family and accepting his father's long-standing offer to join the family business, but that he couldn't bear the thought of taking their only grandchild away from Marian's parents. She was no stranger to hardship herself, juggling being a single mother with a demanding career, and receiving very little in the way of emotional support from Henry's father. Oh, he sent a check every month, but he only took the boy for a weekend once in a blue moon. Henry was seven at the time, and Regina was at her wit's end trying to keep babysitters on hand to watch him when she was working.

"It was supposed to be so much easier with two of us," Regina said sadly, and Robin nodded in agreement. Raising Roland without Marian had never been a possibility in his mind, but once he had no choice, he was totally at a loss how to handle the situation.

At about four in the morning, when the bottle was half-empty and the pizza was a distant memory, Regina proposed a solution. She trusted Robin with Henry, wanted him to be able to stay close to Marian's family, and desperately needed help managing her own life. "I know it's not exactly the kind of thing you'd want to do," she said, "but would you consider moving in with me and taking care of Henry? That way you could still be home with Roland, and I wouldn't have to worry about who's watching my son."

He resisted the idea at first, but it slowly grew on him. Two weeks later, he called Regina and asked if the offer still stood. A month after that, he and Roland were comfortably settled in Regina's large white colonial. He assured her that it was just temporary, until he figured out what his long-term plans were.

And four years later, he's still in her kitchen, making dinner for the boys, and discussing the ins-and-outs of her workday. It's exactly the life he envisioned for himself, except for the small fact that Regina is his employer, not his wife.

Not that he wants her to be. They're friends – in fact, she's his best friend – but nothing more. True, he hasn't dated since Marian died, but that has nothing to do with Regina and everything to do with the fact that he has his hands full with Roland and Henry. He's rather content with his lot in life, as unexpected as it is. He spends his days managing the house, taking care of appointments and paying bills. His afternoons are dedicated to Henry and Roland, and once dinner is over and the boys are in bed, he and Regina spend the evening sharing a glass of wine and talking about anything and everything. No, he has no complaints.

She balls up the napkin and throws it at him, interrupting his train of thought. "Is the lasagna done yet? I'm still hungry." The timer goes off just as he scoops the napkin off the floor where it landed (leaving more crumbs for him to clean up; perhaps they should get a dog). He waves her to the table and grabs a set of pot-holders.

When he comes back down to the living room after getting Roland settled for the night, she's already in her pajamas – a pair of worn yoga pants and an old concert t-shirt that she liberated from Robin about three years ago. She has a glass of pinot noir waiting for him, but she barely looks up from her laptop when he sits on the opposite end of the couch. Her face is scrubbed clean of makeup, and she's wearing the black-rimmed glasses that she only puts on when she's at home. She's a beautiful woman, stunning dressed in a suit and impossibly high heels, but he thinks she's far more beautiful like this. Completely relaxed and at ease in his presence. She stretches out her legs, still not looking up, and drops her feet in his lap. She doesn't even need to ask. He sets to work massaging her tired feet, digging his thumbs into her arches. She breathes a small sigh of relief as he sets to work on the balls of her feet.

"I hope you're not going to be at it all night," he says. "I seriously doubt Sidney is plugging away at this hour."

She holds up one finger. "Just one more email, and I'm done." She taps away at her keyboard for a moment more, pauses to re-read what she's written, and clicks the send button. With that, she closes her laptop and drops it on the coffee table. "Thank you for that," she says as she wiggles her toes.

"Anytime," he replies. "Perhaps someday you'll return the favor."

She shoots him a frosty glare over the frames of her glasses. "Absolutely not. Women's feet are dainty. Men's feet are disgusting."

He laughs and runs a fingertip lightly over her arch. She jumps and pulls her foot back. She's extremely ticklish, he knows, and she hates it when he does that.

"Do that again, and I'll fire you," she says in her best I'm-the-boss tone.

"You couldn't live without me," he smirks back at her and tugs her foot back into his lap.

She doesn't deny it.

"So," Robin says, "Other than Sidney being a colossal prat, what else happened today?"

She shifts in her seat uncomfortably. "Nothing much," she evades.

He holds a finger to the arch of her foot and stares at her, one eyebrow raised.

"Don't you dare," she warns. He moves his finger a centimeter. "All right," she says. "Fine. I…got asked out. On a date."

 _On a date_. He didn't expect that. Not that she shouldn't be dating; after all, she is a beautiful, intelligent woman. It's just that she hasn't really dated in the entire time that he's known her. He's a bit taken aback, that's all. Perfectly understandable that he should feel his heart hammering in its chest.

"A date?" he asks lightly. "By whom?"

"His name is Graham. He works in the same office building, and we usually wind up at the same Starbucks in the afternoon, so we've been talking. And he asked me out."

"Did you say yes?" he asks.

She looks away from him. "I did," she answers softly. We're going out this weekend."

"I see," he says. He lifts her feet and rests them on the cushion between them. "What does this Graham do?" He knows he sounds like an overprotective big brother, but he can't help himself. Taking care of Regina is his responsibility, after all. That's the only reason his heart is in his throat at the moment.

"He's a security consultant," she says. She still won't meet his eyes.

"Well," he says, after a brief, uncomfortable silence, "I'm sure he's fine. But I'll be vetting him on the doorstep when he comes to pick you up nonetheless. Now, I believe I have some dishes to attend to." He picks up his untouched glass of wine and starts to beat a hasty retreat to the kitchen.

"Robin," she calls out, and he stops in his tracks. She finally looks up at him, and for the first time in four years, he can't read the expression in her eyes. "I don't have to go."

"Don't be silly," he says evenly. "If you want to go out with him, then by all means you should." And with that, he turns his back on her and heads to the safety of the kitchen.

He attacks the baking dish with a bit more force than necessary. He's surprised and angry at himself that the thought of Regina going out on a date bothers him so much. They're friends, and he wants the best for her. He should be happy for her, but instead he's sulking in the kitchen. _Get a grip, Locksley_ , he thinks. _You're acting like a jealous schoolboy_.

That's when it hits him. He is jealous. He's jealous beyond belief of this Graham character, so jealous that he breaks a wineglass when he slams the lasagna pan into the dishwasher.

"Shit," he mutters. He reaches into the dishwasher to collect the pieces of broken glass, somehow managing to slice into his thumb in the process.

"Goddammit," he curses. Suddenly, she's behind him, reaching for his arm.

Her hand encircles his wrist, and she holds a clean dishtowel to the bleeding gash on his thumb. "Are you all right?" she says softly.

"Fine," he bites out. "Just clumsy."

She applies gentle pressure to the cut, loosening her hold on his arm when he hisses in pain. "Come here," she says, and draws him to the sink. "Let me look at it."

"Regina, it's fine. I'll take care of it."

She ignores him and slowly unwraps the dishtowel. She turns the faucet on low and holds his thumb under the water, rinsing away the blood. "It's not deep," she says, and she re-wraps his thumb gently. "Just hold still and wait for the bleeding to stop." She doesn't let go of him. With one hand, she keeps applying gentle pressure. Her other hand remains on his wrist, her thumb stroking his pulse point softly. He can feel the blood rushing through his veins; if she's trying to stop the bleeding, she's failing miserably. He tries to pull his hand away, but she refuses to let go.

"You don't need to do this," he says.

"You always take care of me. I don't mind returning the favor." She looks up at him, her chocolate brown eyes wide under the lenses of her glasses. "I don't have to go," she repeats.

He opens his mouth to insist that it's none of his concern, but the message gets lost between his brain and his tongue. "I don't want you to go," he says.

She smiles at that and releases the hand holding his wrist. He starts to pull away, mortified at what he's just said, but she reaches up and fists her hand into his t-shirt. She pulls him into her and kisses him.

She's kissing him. His mind goes completely blank for a moment, but then his arm snakes around her waist, pulling her closer and deepening the kiss. She sucks gently at his bottom lip, and he groans. She's kissing him, and he can barely breathe.

The sound of a cough from the doorway breaks the spell, and the two of them jump away from each other. Henry is in the doorway."I was going to get a cup of water, but maybe I'm not thirsty," he says, his face wrinkled in disgust. He turns and stomps back up the stairs.

Robin and Regina stand frozen for a moment, mortified at having been caught making out by Henry. Then, a chuckle escapes Robin's lips. Regina starts to giggle in response, and the two of them laugh in earnest. When they finally manage to regain some form of composure, Robin reaches out to tuck a strand of Regina's hair behind her ear. "I don't want you to go," he says. "I want you to stay here with me."

She takes his hand in hers and kisses his knuckles. "Then I will," she says, and pulls him to her once more.

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Chapter 2: Adoption

Summary:

Prompt: Regina and Robin add to their family.

Chapter Text

She's cuddled up next to him, her head on his chest, and he absently strokes her hair while he listens to her breathing return to normal. It's been six months since the night she kissed him, six months since the night everything changed. These six months have been the happiest Robin can remember, and nights like these, where he can shamelessly bask in the afterglow of making love to her, make him kick himself for not realizing sooner how much he loved her.

Despite his contentment, though, something still weighs on his mind. So much about the way they live is split into his and hers - his son, her son; his kitchenware, her furniture; his car, her house. He wants something that they can claim as theirs, something that marks them as a true family.

"Regina?" he whispers. She hmmms sleepily in response. "I think we should get a dog."

That wakes her up. She props herself up on one elbow. "What?"

"I think we should get a dog," he repeats.

She studies him for a second. "If this is about the crumbs, I can stop doing that. I only do it to annoy you, you know."

He laughs at that. "I'm well aware. But no, this isn't about the crumbs. Although," he says, shooting her a mock scolding glare, "you can stop doing that anytime, my love. No, this is about us having something that belongs to all of us."

She raises an eyebrow and nibbles at her bottom lip. He can practically hear the wheels turning in her head. "A dog," she says finally. "I've never been fond of pets, Robin."

"Nonsense," he says. "You love horses."

"Horses don't pee in your house and chew up your shoes," she shoots back.

"Well, if the dog pees in the house, you know who will be cleaning it up. And as for your shoes, perhaps if you put them in the closet where they belong, a dog won't be able to get to them." She rolls her eyes at that.

"You're really serious about this, aren't you?" she asks.

He pulls her down to his chest again, wrapping his arms around her. "If you don't want a dog, we won't get a dog," he says. "But yes, I am serious about this. Will you at least think about it?" He can feel her nod against him. "Thank you," he whispers, and sweeps aside her hair to kiss her forehead.

He's waiting for her in the kitchen the next morning with Belgian waffles, sliced strawberries and blueberries, and a shot of whipped cream. She raises her eyebrow at the spread in front of her. "You're trying to bribe me," she says flatly.

"Nonsense, milady. I'm just trying to make sure you have a good start to the day." Of course he's trying to bribe her. If there's one thing he knows about Regina Mills, it's that the way to her heart is definitely through her stomach, and he has no qualms about taking advantage. He shoots her his most irresistible grin, and she ducks her chin to hide her smile. She digs her finger into the small mound of whipped cream and licks it off with a satisfied hum.

"I told you I'd think about it," she says. She scoops up another fingerfull of whipped cream and offers it to him. He sucks her finger gently, his heart beating a little faster at the look in her eyes.

"I'm happy to do whatever it takes to persuade you, my love," he replies. She opens her mouth to suggest something, but the sound of footsteps stops her short.

"Did you make waffles?" comes Henry's voice from the stairs, and Robin reluctantly lets go of Regina's hand.

"Later," he promises.

Henry slides into the kichen in his socks, grabbing the edge of the granite island to stop himself. "If you fall and crack your head open, you're cleaning it up yourself," Regina admonishes.

Henry pulls off a piece of his mother's waffle. "What did you make waffles for?" he asks.

"I'm trying to bribe your mother, of course," Robin answers with a smile. He hears her mutter I told you so under her breath.

"About what?" Henry asks, and then thinks better of it. "Or do I not want to know?" He's walked in on enough awkward moments over the last six months, poor lad, that he's started clearing his throat dramatically before he enters a room. Robin reaches over and ruffles his hair. "I was trying to persuade your mother to get a dog."

Regina's fork clatters to her plate and she shoots a death glare at Robin. He knows exactly why; the boy has been asking for a pet for the four years he's been living here, and now he's using her son as an ally in the dog war. He'll probably pay for this later on. Her eyes narrow and she crosses her arms. Oh, he'll definitely pay for this later on.

Henry, on the other hand, is ecstatic. "Mom, can we?" he asks as he bounces up and down on his heels. "A dog would be awesome! They have adoption fairs at the farmer's market every week! Can we go and look?"

She sighs and shakes her head. She can say no to Robin, and she can say no to Henry, but she's never been able to say no to both of them. Robin elbows Henry and nods to his mother. She's just about to crack; they can both see it in her face.

"All right. Fine," she sighs after a moment. "We can go and look. LOOK. I'm making no promises."

Henry lets out a whoop and goes tearing up the stairs to fetch Roland. She watches him go, then turns back to Robin. "That was a low blow, Locksley.

He pulls her into his arms. "I'll make it up to you."

She smiles up at him, a slightly wicked grin full of promise. "Oh, you definitely will."

The rescue group has about fifteen dogs of all shapes and sizes, each wearing a bright yellow "Adopt me!" kerchief. Henry and Roland make a beeline for the puppies, but Regina shoots Robin a warning look. "No puppies," she says. He introduces himself to a small pit bull mix, who responds by rolling over and sticking all four paws in the air, asking for a belly rub. He complies, and the dog's tail thumps away on the pavement. "What about this one?" he says as he looks up, but Regina isn't paying a lick of attention. She's staring at the edges of the group, where an older woman sits with an enormous black dog. The two of them are staring at the gathered crowd of dogs and onlookers with a look of detached indifference. Robin has seen that look before, he thinks, but usually it's coming from the woman beside him.

She walks over to the dog and stands in front of it, arms crossed. They eye each other appraisingly. Finally, she holds out her hand to the dog, and it comes over to her, sniffs her fingertips, and sits gracefully at her side. She reaches down to pet the dog behind the ears, and the dog leans into her touch. Funny, he's seen that too, but it's usually him that does it. He strolls over to join them.

"This one," she says. He opens his mouth to question if it's perhaps a bit rash of a decision, but both woman and dog fix him with a determined glare. "This one," she repeats, "or no dog."

This one it is. He calls over the boys to meet the dog (it's a she, the rescue volunteer tells him, and she's three years old), and she sniffs at each of them before nosing around their pockets. Roland tugs at the dog's ears before Robin can stop him, but she tolerates it without reaction.

"What's her name?" Regina asks, and the volunteer answers Madison. "That's an awfully ordinary name for such a majestic dog," Regina says to the boys. "What do you think her name should be?" The boys study the dog, who sits quietly, unmoved by such scrutiny. "Maleficent," Roland announces. "That's her name."

Regina smiles down at him. "Maleficent it is." She takes Maleficent's leash (it's a silly name for a dog, Robin thinks, but in this case, he's not completely sure it isn't appropriate) from the volunteer and hands it to Henry. "Why don't you two take her for a walk while I sign the paperwork?"

Not more than ten minutes later, the Mills-Locksley family has a dog.

The dog settles into the house fairly easily. She follows Regina from room to room that first day, settling down at her feet whenever Regina sits. Henry and Roland take her out to the backyard to play fetch, which she consents to, but when they bring her back inside, it's back to Regina's side she goes. Robin is left wondering how he was the one begging for a dog, and yet they wound up with the one dog at the adoption fair that has no interest in him.

Serves you right, Locksley, he thinks with a wry smile. He leaves the family in the den and heads for the kitchen to make dinner.

Saturday night is taco night, and he's elbows-deep in ground beef when Regina and her canine shadow come padding into the kitchen. Regina peeks into the saute pan. "Anything I can do to help?" she asks.

"No. Last time you tried to help, you overcooked the ground beef. Why don't you pour us a couple of glasses of wine instead?" She reaches for the wine glasses, stepping over the dog's tail. Robin looks down at Maleficent, whose eyes haven't left him since she entered the kitchen. He could swear that the dog is judging his cooking abilities. And he's fairly certain she's finding them lacking.

He brought home the dog version of Regina Mills. Well, that's terrific. In another four years, this dog might actually get around to liking him.

Regina rests a glass of Malbec on the counter. He kisses her on the cheek and thanks her, then tells her to round up the boys to wash up. Maleficent rises to follow her, but he catches her attention with a few clicks of his tongue. She trots over to him and sits at his feet.

Well. He won over Regina; he can certainly do the same with this one. He fishes a small pile of ground beef out of the pan and sets it on the counter to cool for a minute. Once it's stopped steaming, he feeds it to the dog, bit by bit, until Maleficent has condescended to wag her tail ever so slightly for him. He crouches to her level and rubs her haunches, and she slowly slides down to the floor. Then, miracle of miracles, she rolls over and offers her belly. He's mid-belly rub when Regina comes back into the kitchen.

"Well, look at that," she says over his shoulder. "Looks like she likes you after all."

Robin straightened and held out his hand to Regina. "Of course she does. I have a way with women. I feed them and rub their bellies, and they fall for me like dominoes."

"Well, it's certainly not because of your charm," she agrees. "Now hurry up with the tacos. We're starving." Regina and the dog stand in front of him, side by side, with equally impatient expressions.

He sighs and goes back to slicing tomatoes for the tacos. It simply wouldn't do to let either of the ladies in his life down, after all.

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Chapter 3: Teach Me

Summary:

Prompt: Teach me.

Chapter Text

Robin can't sleep. The bed feels empty without her. It's the first serious fight that they've had since they've been together, and it's all because of the damned dog.

Well, not really. He knows he shouldn't blame the dog, but it's easier than blaming himself. Regina had come home the night before, snippy from going rounds with Sidney all day. Robin was in a bad mood himself, and he made a snide remark that maybe Sidney spent so much time getting in her face because he was interested in her, and the comment was most definitely not well received. She'd snapped that he had no idea what went on her office all day, and it stung. He didn't know, because he was at home all day, not working and not bringing anything into their bank account. Rather than admitting he was tired and frustrated, he'd thrown Graham back in her face, telling her that she obviously didn't know she was sending out signals. She'd thrown the dishtowel on the counter and stomped out of the kitchen.

By the time the the dishes were done and the kitchen was tidied to his satisfaction, he expected Regina to be asleep as well. She wasn't; she was reading a book, the dog stretched out on the floor next to the bed. She was doing her absolute best to ignore him. He stripped and pulled on a pair of pajama pants and pulled back the covers. His pillow was covered in dog hair.

"Really, Regina?" he'd huffed. "If you must let the dog in the bed, the least you could do is keep her off my pillow."

She cocked an eyebrow, not bothering to look up from her book. "So you're jealous of the dog too, now?"

"Hard not to be, when you show the dog more consideration than you do me." He regretted the words the instant they left his mouth, but he couldn't take them back. She slammed her book shut, snatched her pillow, and stalked out of the room, snapping her fingers for the dog to follow. He could hear the guest room door slam behind her and the telltale click of the lock snapping into place.

Just like her, he thought. Walk away when it gets tough. Well, he wasn't going to chase after her. He tossed his own fur-covered pillow on the floor and crawled into bed.

By three in the morning, he's resigned himself to a sleepless night and is cursing himself for being a complete ass.

He gets up in the morning to make her breakfast, only to find that she's already left the house. He assumes she's gone for a run – it's one of her favorite ways to work out her moods. This is the first weekend alone they've had in months; Henry is on one of his rare visits with his father, and Marian's parents have taken Roland to the beach for the weekend. He had planned to spend the better part of the morning making Regina moan with pleasure, but now he's afraid that he's going to have to spend the entire weekend groveling to get back into her good graces. He'll do it, but it's a daunting task; she holds a grudge like a Sicilian mobster. She unfortunately inherited that from her mother. He pours himself a bowl of cereal and slices up some melon for Regina, which he leaves on a plate in the fridge next to a yogurt cup. She'll be hungry when she comes back from her run, he knows, and maybe she'll take it as a peace offering.

In the meantime, he has plenty of things to do around the house to distract his mind. He goes upstairs to throw on a t-shirt and jeans and heads out to the backyard to work on weeding the garden.

He's halfway through mowing the lawn when he sees her come jogging down the driveway. She lets herself and the dog in through the side door without even a glance at him. He knows he should go in and apologize, but he decides to finish the job at hand first. Let her have little time to shower and put herself together. He needs a little more time to rehearse his apology, anyway. It seems he only has a way with words when he isn't being forced to eat them.

He kills the lawnmower just in time to see her car backing out of the driveway. The apology will have to wait. He stores the lawnmower in the shed and heads back into the house, finding Mal sitting in the kitchen, staring balefully at him. He crouches down. "I'll apologize to her later, I promise." He reaches out to rub her under her ears, but she simply stands and walks down the hallway, her toenails click-clacking in time with her steps. She's gone to stretch out in front of the bay window, no doubt, and keep watch for Regina's return. He has half a mind to do the same. Instead, he goes to the kitchen and pops open the fridge for a bottle of water. Regina's breakfast sits on the shelf, untouched.

Damn.

The garage door rolls up as he's in Henry's room, collecting clothes for the wash. He heads down to the laundry room and finds her in the kitchen, slamming flour and sugar out of grocery bags onto the counter. "Regina-" he starts, but she cuts him off with an outstretched hand.

"Don't talk to me," she snaps. He heads into the laundry room and sorts clothes for the wash. Once the machine is going and he's folded yesterday's load, he takes a deep breath and heads back into the kitchen.

She's in the process of hacking an apple into bits when he pulls out a stool and perches across from her, forearms resting on the granite counter. Watching her wield that knife isn't the most pleasant thing; he's pretty sure she's imagining she's hacking into some of his more valuable body parts. He opens his mouth to speak.

"I said don't talk to me," she mutters.

"I am going to talk to you. I can't bear to have you angry with me."

She slams the knife down on the counter. "You should have thought of that before you opened your big mouth yesterday."

"You're right," he says gently. "I should have. I should have thought of a lot of things before I jumped on you. I'm sorry."

She looks up to meet his eyes, and he holds her gaze. She's still livid; he can see it in the set of her shoulders and the flush of her cheeks. She hasn't tried to stab him, though, so he takes that as a good sign. He pushes himself off the stool and circles the island, stopping when he's inches from her. "I'm sorry," he whispers. His arms circle her waist and pull her to him. She doesn't relax in his arms, not even the slightest.

"I've never given you the slightest cause to doubt me," she says, and he can hear more than just anger in her voice. She's hurt, deeply hurt. He closes his eyes and damns himself again for shooting off his mouth.

"I don't doubt you, not for a second," he says. "I doubt me."

She pulls away from him. "What?" she asks. She's confused, and he trips over himself to reassure her.

"Not the way I feel about you. I doubt that I'm enough for you. You're surrounded all day by these high-powered executive types, the movers and shakers, and you hold your own with them every day. Then you come home to me, and the most exciting thing I can provide is that I've done the laundry, vacuumed the house, and fed the dog. To be honest, I dread the day when that's not enough for you anymore."

She's studying his face, her eyes moving rapidly. He rests a hand on her cheek and strokes his thumb softly over her smooth skin. "I shouldn't have taken my frustrations out on you. I'm sorry, Regina. Truly."

She rests her hand over his and curls her fingers into his own. She relaxes against him – finally – and he lets go of the breath he didn't even realize he'd been holding.

"You make me feel safe," she says. "Safe, and warm, and loved. You take care of me, and Henry and Roland. You make me laugh, and you listen to me. Robin, nobody has ever done that for me before. Not my mother, not my ex-husband…nobody. I don't want anything more than this. I'm not going to walk away. Ever."

She curls her hand around the nape of his neck and pulls him down for a gentle kiss. "I love you," she whispers against his lips.

It's not the first time she's said it, not by far, but it is the first time she's said it without a prompt from him. He pulls her tighter to him and kisses her hungrily. He wants to erase every last bit of anger and hurt with his mouth, his hands, his body. Wants to show her how completely he loves her in every way possible. He reaches down and cups her ass, pulling her to him and lifting her off the floor. He drops her on the counter and reaches down to pull off her blouse.

"Robin," she says with a laugh, "we can't-"

"We can. I'll clean it later." And with that, her shirt is off, and he's kissing her neck, her chest, the swell of her breasts. She leans back and moans at the touch of his tongue to her skin, all thoughts of baking forgotten.

When he comes back into the kitchen, Clorox wipes in hand, he finds her back at the counter, delicately slicing more apples. "Still in the mood to bake, I see," he says with a smile.

"You always have to finish what you start, Locksley," she says. She licks a bit of apple off her index finger and raises an eyebrow at him. She's wearing nothing but his t-shirt, her hair is mussed, and her cheeks are still flushed. If she's trying to start something that he needs to finish again, she's doing a hell of a job. He reaches for her, but she sidesteps him deftly. "Later," she says. "First, pie."

It's the only thing she truly enjoys making in the kitchen. He cooks all their meals, but on special occasions, she'll shoo him out for an hour or so while she works on her one masterpiece. He's asked her for the recipe countless times over the years, but she's always insisted that this one is her own secret, and she'll never share.

He wipes down the counter and tosses the wipes in the trash. He leans an elbow on the island and watches her as she sifts flour into the mixing bowl. "You haven't tossed me out of the kitchen yet," he says.

"I like your company," she replies.

He reaches out and strokes a hand through her hair. "Will you teach me?" he asks. She hesitates for a second, and then nods. "Come here," she says, and he wraps his arms around her, resting his chin on her shoulder. "This is for the crust. Once you've got all the dry ingredients in, you have to cut it with ice cold butter and shortening, or else it will fall apart. You have to do it gently."

"Gently," he whispers, pressing a kiss to her temple. For her, he can do gently.

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Chapter 4: Confession

Summary:

Prompt: Late night confessions.

Chapter Text

He's going to ask her to marry him today. He's going to ask her to marry him, and he's terrified.

Robin is standing on the steps of Regina's parents' house, feeling very much like an awkward teenager picking up his prom date. He'd called earlier and asked if he could stop by, and he has a sneaking suspicion that Regina's father knows the purpose of the visit. As he pushes the doorbell, he can only hope that Henry Senior is is, as he suspects, agreeable to his place in his only daughter's life.

The door opens. Bad luck – it's Cora, Regina's mother. Cora, who has barely tolerated his presence. Cora, who expected much better of her daughter than to wind up with the help. She offers him a thin smile and sweeps her arms to the hallway, and he trots along after her, just as he did as a schoolboy when he was sent to the headmaster's office. It's not an auspicious beginning to the meeting, that's for certain.

Cora leads him into the formal living room, where Henry is waiting on the sofa. He eases into an armchair, too uncertain to lean fully into the back of the chair. It's a silly thing, he knows, to come to her parents and ask for permission to marry a daughter that's divorced, fully financially independent, and a mother herself, but Robin has a sentimental streak. He's also well aware that Regina has a difficult relationship with her mother (to say the least), and the last thing he wants is to get their life together off on the wrong foot.

"Robin," Henry says with a warm smile, "what can we do for you?"

Robin chuckles, a bit at a loss as to how to start. He decides to get to the point immediately. Better to pull off the bandage with a clean yank, as it were. "I've come to ask for your permission to marry your daughter, sir."

Cora sits a little straighter, if that's even possible, on the edge of the sofa. Robin turns to her and gives her his most charming smile. "As you know, Mrs. Mills, we've been together for a year now, and it's been the best year of my life. Regina makes me very happy, and I think – I hope – I do the same for her."

Cora gives him a small nod. "She does seem quite…content with you." It's not much of a vote of confidence, but he'll take it. "How does she feel about this?"

"To be honest, I don't know. We've talked about the future in vague terms, but we haven't really discussed marriage." It's a sensitive topic for Regina, given the disaster that her first marriage had turned out to be, and Robin is fully aware that she might just turn down his proposal. If she does, he can live with that. He'll stay with her in whatever way she wants, but he has to ask. He has to let her know that she's it – she's the one for him, and he wants to commit to her for the rest of his life.

"Can you take care of her?" Cora asks doubtfully. That question stings a bit.

"Financially, she is more than capable of taking care of herself. In every other way, yes. Yes, I can take care of her. And I will."

"Well," Henry interrupts, "I don't think you need our permission, since Regina is going to do what she wants to do regardless of what we say," and he beams with pride at his daughter's stubborn nature. "But, if you want my blessing, you have it." Henry shoots a quick glance at his wife, and her expression finally softens.

"Very well," she says. "Welcome to the family." Robin starts to rise to embrace her, but she cuts him off. "Have you gotten her a ring?"

He laughs at that. "I have not. Knowing how particular she is about her shoes, I hardly thought it a good idea to buy her jewelry without her input."

Cora stands and brushes imaginary lint off her pressed wool trousers. "Wait here," she says. She sweeps out of the room, leaving Robin staring after her in confusion. He looks to Henry, who is leaning back against the sofa with a small smile on his face.

"She likes you," he says. "She won't admit it, but trust me, she likes you."

Cora comes back after a few moments with a small box in her hand, which she offers to Robin. He opens it – inside is a platinum band with a beautiful, emerald-cut diamond surrounded by two rectangular baguettes. It's obviously an antique, and it's absolutely stunning. He looks up at Cora, completely shocked by the gesture. "What is this?"

"It belonged to Henry's mother," she says. "She gave it to me before she passed away and asked me to give it to Regina when she was ready. I was going to give it to her when she married Leo, but…" her voice trails off. She pauses for a second, then waves her hand dismissively. "He didn't deserve it."

Robin swallows past the lump that's formed without warning in his throat. "I don't know what to say," he stammers.

"Don't say anything," Cora says gently. "Just take it, and make her happy. Because if you don't," and her voice grows a little harder, a little more like the Cora that he's come to know and grudgingly respect, "you'll have me to answer to."

"Understood." With that he stands and pulls Cora into a quick embrace. He shakes Henry's hand and promises him that he'll do whatever it takes to make Regina happy.

"Oh, she'll see to that," Henry says with a smile, and ushers Robin out the door.

He walks slowly back to the car, feeling the weight of the ring in his pocket increasing with every step he takes. It's a small piece of jewelry, but having it in his possession makes it all real. He sits in the driver's seat and pulls out the ring. This is going to happen, he thinks as he studies the delicate facets of the diamond. He snaps the lid of the jewelry box shut and starts the car.

He has one more stop to make before he goes home and starts his preparation for the evening ahead.

Marian's parents have taken the boys to the movies for the evening. He'd told them of his plans when he'd called to ask them to babysit, and her mother had shrieked in delight. They adore Henry and Regina. He'd been afraid when he and Regina first got together that they'd judge him, think that he had forgotten Marian and cut him out of the family, but he'd been wrong. Jane had told him that Marian always wanted his happiness, and she wanted the same for him. She was thrilled when he told her that he planned to marry Regina. She volunteered to step in as mother of the groom, if need be, and his heart melted at the watery tone in her voice over the phone. He's lucky, he knows that, and he's grateful that he and Roland have these wonderful people in their lives still.

He's got the wine chilling (and a bottle of champagne tucked into the fridge, ever the optimist), the filet mignon resting on the counter, and is whipping up some potates when she walks in from work. She takes one look at the candles on the table and the bouquet of roses on the counter, and raises her eyebrows. "What's all this?" she asks.

"This, milady, is a romantic dinner for two. I've sent the boys packing and intend to keep you all to myself for the night."

She laughs at that and curls into his waiting arms. "You'll have no objections from me." She reaches up to kiss him, but stops about an inch from his lips and sniffs. "Are you making apple pie?" she asks.

"I am indeed. It is, after all, a special occasion."

She looks up at him, confused. "What's the occasion?" she asks, and he can see her doing rapid mental math to try and figure out if she's forgotten an important date.

"The special occasion is that I love you." It's an incomplete answer, of course, but he's not about to drop to his knee before she's even had a chance to take off her blazer. He wants to savor her, savor the anticipation. And, to be honest, get a glass or two of wine in her before he asks. Just in case. He leans down, finally capturing her lips, and kisses her deeply. She tightens her hold on his waist and breathes into the kiss, and he has to fight against the temptation to let the pie burn and sweep her upstairs. The buzzer interrupts them, and he reluctantly breaks the kiss. "Get yourself comfortable," he says. Dinner will be ready in a moment."

She heads into the living room, pulling her blazer off as she goes, and he can hear her greeting Mal as he pulls the pie out of the oven. He's already explained to the dog that she is in no way allowed into the kitchen tonight. And, though he'll never admit it to anyone, he also told the dog that he'd be asking Regina for her hand in marriage and hoped that Mal would approve. He'd bribed her with an extra Milk Bone or two, just in case. Cora may be his harshest critic, but Regina's dog isn't far behind in the running.

He pours two glasses of wine and sets them on the table, then carefully plates the filet, potatoes and Brussels sprouts. He can feel the ring brushing against his thigh as he walks to the table to set down the plates. He takes a deep breath as he straightens the candles in their holders. Let's get this show on the road, he thinks, and calls to Regina to join him.

She's in a good mood – she's bested Sidney again today, and she's full of chatter about how ticked he was when she pointed out to their boss that he was the one who blew off the quality control meeting that morning. She doesn't even notice that he's unusually quiet tonight, and for that, he's grateful. He clears the plates, tops off her glass of wine, and dishes up two slices of pie. "I'm sure it's not up to your standards," he says with a smile, "but I hope it's a worthy effort nonetheless." She takes a bite and smiles, and she tells him that he's not allowed to make this again, ever, without her, lest her one contribution in the kitchen be ruined forever.

"I promise," he agrees, and digs his fork into his own slice. They finish dessert in relative silence, save for the appreciative hums Regina makes with each forkful. She finally lays down her fork.

"This was perfect," she says. "Thank you."

"No need to thank me, milady. I love making you happy." He reaches into his pocket. Now or never, he thinks, and he pushes himself off his chair and drops to one knee beside her. He takes her hand and puts the jewelry box into her palm. "And, if you'll let me, I'll do my best to make you happy for the rest of our lives."

She's completely shocked, her mouth opening and closing. She looks at him, then at the box, and then back at him. He's never before seen her speechless. He reaches up and pops open the lid. "Regina Mills," he says, "will you marry me?"

She takes the box and places it gently on the table, and then she's down on her knees with him, pulling him to her and kissing him, over and over. "Yes," she says into his lips. She grabs the collar of his shirt and pulls him closer. "Yes, I will marry you." His arms go around her, and he covers his mouth with hers. Now that he has his answer, he sees absolutely no reason to continue talking.

She's gone when he wakes the next morning. He pushes himself out of bed and heads to the bathroom, but she's not there. Her wet towels are on the floor, though, so he knows she must have gotten up early to head to work. His chest clenches in a brief moment of panic that she's had a change of heart, but he spies the empty jewelry box on her nightstand and sighs in relief. Whatever's driven her to be up and out of the house so early, he'll find out when she comes home after work. In the meantime, the boys need to be fed and dressed and sent off to school, so he pads out of the bedroom to start the daily routine.

He's planned a celebration for tonight – they'd told the boys when they got home from the movies that they were going to be married and be a real family. He promised them a proper evening to mark the event, which in the case of Roland and Henry meant ordering pizza and playing a marathon of video games. They're already deep into Super Mario Brothers when Regina gets home from work. Roland is not overly impressed with the concept of an engagement, but Henry is old enough to ooh and aah at the ring and ask pointed questions about weddings and honeymoons. Robin assures Henry that he'll be the best man, and the lad is satisfied with that. Once the boys have been tucked into bed, Robin heads to the master bedroom to find Regina waiting for him, wearing only her engagement ring. Apparently, last night's celebration wasn't enough for her, and he's only too happy to oblige in continuing the festivities.

After all, he did promise to keep her happy.

She's stroking lazy circles on his chest, her head resting right over his heart. He'll never get enough of the feel of her skin pressing into his. He closes his eyes and listens to her breathing. "Thank you," she whispers into his chest.

"For what?" he murmurs as he presses a kiss into her hair.

"For everything," she says.

He smiles and pulls her closer. "I missed you this morning," he says.

She stiffens a little bit in his arms. "What is it?" he asks.

"I had something I needed to do this morning," she answers. He can feel her weighing her words. "I went to see Marian."

He didn't expect that. They don't talk much about Marian, or Leo anymore. They've made an implicit agreement to leave the past in the past, so her words surprise him. "What did you say?" he asks gently.

"I told her that I loved you. That I would do my best to make you and Roland happy. I told her that I hoped she'd understand, and be happy for us. And that I miss her and I don't ever want to replace her in your heart, or Roland's." Her voice catches a bit on that last part. "I just- I just want her to understand and be happy for us."

He pulls her closer, gathers her into his arms and tips her chin up to face his. "I hope you know that you're not replacing Marian in my heart," he says. "I love you for you, not for anyone else." She smiles at that, and he brushes away a tear that's escaped from her lashes. "I went to see Marian, too," he confesses. "Right after I talked to your parents."

She laughs at that, and he's grateful that the mood has lightened a bit. "You did not. You asked my parents for permission?"

He nods. "Where do you think I got the ring?" She's quiet for a second as she fiddles with the ring.

"What did you say to Marian?" she asks finally.

"I told her that I loved you, with all my heart. And that I hoped I had her blessing. And, Regina," he says as he presses a kiss to her lips, "I have to believe that we have it. She respected you, and she admired you. I think that if I had to marry anyone, she'd want it to be you."

"I hope you're right," she says with a sigh.

"Of course I am," he replies. "Aren't I always?"

She laughs at that and settles into his arms. "Always," she says with a sigh. It's not an agreement; it's a promise, and it's one he intends to keep.


End file.
